Sweet Dreams
by Sara6
Summary: Sequel to Escape. What exactly was Liz dreaming about?


Sweet Dreams

**Sweet Dreams**

  
Rating: gonna have to go with R for this one.  
Summary: Set after "Escape." What was Liz really dreaming about?  
Background Music: "Dreaming" by BT.  
Notes: This is pretty feisty. Not smut, but...um. Yeah.  


"Drowsy contemplation  
do I let you in?   
Well this is my invitation   
but how do I begin?"  
_My Invitation_  
*Sarah Slean*  


It's August 17th. I'm Liz Parker, and lately, I've been having dreams. Not bad dreams, I mean not really. Just sort of...strange. Unexpected. Surprisingly pleasant.

Disturbingly realistic.

And they've been involving people who I'm not sure belong in my dreams. Take last night for instance...

It was late before I finally drifted off to sleep, and I started dreaming almost instantly. 

I was in a large room, tinted deep green and maroon. I was standing in the middle, surrounded by furniture covered in soft, sparkling fur. Soft music filled the room, coming from nowhere, yet everywhere. It was warm, and I smelled roses in the air. I tilted, fell back, and suddenly I was on a large bed, sinking deeply into fur and pillows. Then I heard a voice.

"Liz..." the rough whisper sounded in my ear suddenly, and I pulled away from the sudden invasion of space. I gasped as I was drawn into dark, intense eyes and full, soft lips, pressing against mine with abandoned certainty. We fell back onto the bed, arms encircling waists, fingers digging into hips. The lights dimmed, the curtains of the bed crashed around us, and exploration became desperation. His nails scraped down my arms, my lips bruised his bare chest. Stars exploded in the velvet darkness. I sobbed with pleasure.

His faced hovered above me, I identified his features: deep eyes, soft hair, swollen lips, sandpapered voice. The mystery was lost as I realized the man beneath my heated fingertips was no stranger. Michael Guerin gathered me in his arms and discarded my shirt, kissing his way down my neck. I murmured his name, brushing my lips against his collarbone, sucking on the warm flesh that tasted of sugar. His mouth lowered to my breasts, and I gasped with the newness of it. Moaning, I entwined my fingers in his hair and kissed any available surface of his body. Need grew within me, I surrendered. He caressed my hipbones, traced my ribs. I lost myself in him, eyes shutting, hands grasping the sheets, whispered pleas echoing in the dark chamber.

We rolled around the bed, clasped together, melting into the velvet sheets. I think at one point I actually purred, or perhaps he did. At this point the dream faded, became less vivid. Everything was suddenly so many swirls of color, endless and silvery, leaving me breathless. I shook and trembled and tried to keep my eyes open. He sighed, from beneath me, above me, all around me. I shivered at his nearness. My body was sugar water in his hands, smooth and sweet and liquid with desire. We tumbled and rolled and breathed each other, drowning and desperate for air. I gasped as his mouth discovered yet new spots of pleasure, his lips were everywhere. Goosebumps sprang up where his hands had caressed, and I sighed from the lost warmth. He was everywhere.

Then we were kissing, and kissing, and kissing some more, and suddenly it was like I was awake. I was in my bedroom, and Michael was there, and I kissed him, and he smiled. This is where I get confused. It seemed so real, yet I know it can't be. But, god, it felt so real. I've never felt that way kissing anyone before, so alive. I'm insane, I know. It was a dream. That's all. 

Then why can't I get him out of my head?

***

Liz sat her journal on her lap and leaned her head back against the lounge. The images still ran through her head. Today, when Maria had said something to her, she almost blurted out his name. Michael. It felt so right to say.

"God, Parker, give it a rest," she muttered to herself, then stilled as she heard footsteps approach the balcony. A moment later, the ladder began to creak as someone climbed up. She swung her legs over the side of the lounge, ready to attack.

The head that emerged over the ladder could not have shocked her more.

Liz stood straight up, pencil falling from her fingers, journal tumbling from her lap. Her voice was a gasped whisper. "Michael?"

The spiky-haired teenager looked back at her, eyes impossibly wide as Liz turned a brilliant shade of red. He turned to leave, but she was at his side in moments, clutching his wrist. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He looked at her in shock, mouth opening and closing. "Um......." he drew out, buying time as he thought of a reasonable explanation. "I was just...looking for...Max's...thing."

"What?!"

"Uh...book. Max said he left a...book here. I was going to get it back. Sorry. I'll leave." Michael seemed to be sweating a bit under Liz's scrutiny.

"Michael, it's midnight. Why are you really here?"

"I, uh, I'm sorry. I have to go."

In a moment, he was gone.

The End  
10-16-2000 

[Back to the fic...][1]

[Main][2]

[Good? Bad? Let me know.][3]

   [1]: fanfic.html
   [2]: index.html
   [3]: mailto:AddictedKitten@aol.com



End file.
